Before all this the land belonged to Margaret Wood, a grand old lady who lived to just under a hundred years old, and her cottage on this piece of land eventually fell into disrepair, (wonder if anyone complained then?) and she was forced to go and live in a bungalow, though I believe she came back at night to sleep in the old cottage.
|Margaret Wood at Buckingham Palace in 2003|
Looking into those blue eyes I can almost hear a chuckle ringing down the years, as there is a lively conversation in the village as to who instigated the planning officer's visit before Christmas. Poor E who had the week before carefully transplanted snowdrops all along their hedge, had to take them out a week later but she giggles like me at the kerfuffle.
We also have new neighbours, the rooks have decided to build their nests in the copse behind the house, the lawn is strewn with dropped branches and there is a lot of talking between them but they are welcome, though the windows bear testimony to their constant flights...
When we got home from our meal, plentiful and beautifully prepared with Lucie's doggy bag of pork, but just before, everyone wanted to call into the pub. Now our pub is a good old fashioned one and it was absolutely heaving with people from the area, mostly men, apparently it was the finals of the darts game. It says something about the village, the next pub along the road is closed, our Chinese restaurant is in what once was a pub, and mostly the pubs around are more genteel and do meals, our pub (she says with pride)still sticks to serving drinks and massive simple meals for the locals, those farmers can't half eat!